


Me, Myself, and Everyone Else

by PrinceDork



Series: A Study in Börk [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Marvel Cinematic Universe, VenturianTale Characters (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alter Journal, Alters, Angst, Diary/Journal, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Headspace, Suicide, did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDork/pseuds/PrinceDork
Summary: I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and grab them and ask them why, why thei had his name, why they looked like Them. What happened to them, where were they, why did they forget me, break our promise. I wanted to hit them and until they told me what happened.I smiled at them and hugged them back.I knew that every time I would look at them, I would think of those two. I would be hit with a pang of grief and want to cry and hit something.I agreed to let them move in beside me.Where were they? Where was I?
Series: A Study in Börk [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837633
Kudos: 6





	1. Peter- The neighborhood with no neighbors

I remember when I first got here I was very confused. 

I woke up leaning against a really big tree, with big branches making a roof over my head. Around me I could see roads, as if this were a town. 

But there were no buildings.

I remember wandering around nervously, looking for my phone, for anyone, any sign of life. Only thing I could find was a plot of land with a fence around it, and a mailbox in front with my name in neat little letters. Of course, it was only my first name, which is a very common name.

But there was nothing inside the fence except for grass. 

I didn’t leave the roads - they were surrounded by thick forests that had no paths, no markers. I peered inside but it seemed to dangerous for me, so I kept near the tree.

The Tree was odd. Very large, almost the size of my old apartment. On one side of it there was a hole cut into the tree, and a door. I assumed something - or someone - lived inside, but no matter how many times I knocked and called out, nothing answered. 

I eventually returned to the fenced area, going inside of it and looking around. I guessed that whoever was in that tree had been expecting me, and had left me this land. But there was no house, no shelter for me. I wondered if I was early, and they were expecting to build me a house. 

I comforted myself with the thought of my dream home before me - a treehouse, with a thick tree and a nice home with anything I would want and need. Windows, a big bunk bed, good wifi. 

Suddenly, there was a noise. A creaking of metal, or a rattling. It sounded like the mailbox, so I made my way over to the one here. I think it did, really. I never had a mailbox before. 

I opened it to find a single piece of paper. I wasn't sure if it was new, or had been there the whole time, but I took it anyways. 

“Welcome to your new home. -S” 

That’s all it said, front and back. I folded it up and stuck it in my pocket, then turned around.

I was startled to see a large tree, though not as big as the one I had woken up against, with a building on top. Just like the dream home I had been thinking of. 

I rushed up to it, and climbed the stairs, and went into the building.

It was exactly like I had thought. 

I explored the home to the smallest detail, and by the time I finished it had grown dark outside.

So I took a shower and went to bed.

\---

I was there for a while, by myself. Many days, though I never really kept track of them. I explored the roads to the best I could.

There was a lake near the edge of the roads, with a little cliff and a waterfall spilling into the clean water. The lake made a river, which wove through the streets, and caused the roads to make a few pretty little bridges. I saw fish and bugs and plants in the water, making it feel even more alive.

At least I wasn’t completely alone.

I soon found that I had some sort of ability to make whatever I wanted with my mind, but only in certain areas - the plot of land that I assumed was for me, and the forest. I used this ability to start making paths in the forest, and mapping them out. But I never got too far from the main tree.

The woods were full of life, and incredibly beautiful. I wondered if this was what all forests were like - I had grown up in a city, and never really could afford going elsewhere. There were deer and squirrels and bears and bugs and plants and just about anything you could think of. 

But there was no one to talk to. 

One time, I found this big old wooden mansion in the woods. It was real creepy, you couldn’t see anything inside the windows except blackness, and it looked like just walking on the front porch would cause the whole structure to collapse. I was curious, though, I wanted to knock on the door and ask if anyone was home. 

For some reason, though, no matter how much I tried, I could never even walk onto that big raised porch. It was as though there was some mental barrier stopping me.

I tried this for an hour or two, before marking it on my map and leaving.

\--- 

One day, I’m not sure how long since I had arrived at the town, I left my treehouse and saw a figure leaning against the central tree, just as I did. He seemed to be asleep, or passed out, but definitely alive. I was ecstatic - after being alone for who knows how long, I was glad to have a friend. 

I raced over to him and crouched before him, shaking his shoulders and calling for him to wake up. 

He had light brown hair, which was a huge mess, I recall. He wore a blue hoodie with a golden V on it and little red decorations behind the letter. He was small, though still bigger than me. 

Eventually, he woke up and looked at me, probably confused. But I was hopeful and excited, glad to finally have someone to talk to. I was determined to befriend him, help him best I could. I didn’t want him to face the crushing loneliness and how lost you feel in this place. 

I managed to get him standing, and introduced myself. His name was Jordan, his voice was very loud and energetic. 

I brought him back to my house, but on the way we saw that a new fence and mailbox was up. I bounced over to it and saw his name on it with neat letters (and a confirmation on how to spell his name). I explained how he could make his dream home, though I don’t think he believed me at first.

I told Jordan to at least give it a shot, so he did, closing his eyes and thinking for a few moments. And then, there was a big house on the plot of land.

It was a nice, white house, that looked like the country houses you’d see in movies or on TV. It was really big, with five bedrooms. Jordan told me that this was the house where he lives, at least, before he got here. He lived with his brother and two sisters, and their mom. I was a bit confused - I never had siblings, but I was under the impression that children would want to move away from their family as soon as possible. And he was most definitely an adult, probably in his early twenties. 

He brought me inside and gave a tour, explaining what life was like for him, telling me about his family. It seemed nice. 

A part of me envied him. 

I gave him a tour around the town, and we promised to explore the woods the next day. 

But that morning, when I left the house, there was someone new leaning against the tree. Jordan knew him, said his name was Johnny. Though Jordan didn’t tell me where he knew him from.  
Again, I shook Johnny awake, excitedly introducing myself to him. I gave him the run down of what we knew. 

Johnny didn’t seem to talk much. But he was british, so that was cool. 

We went and found Johnny’s plot of land, which was right next to Jordan’s, and explained how to make his dream house. Johnny’s was very small. There were two bedrooms, the smaller belonging to Johnny, and the bigger to someone else Johnny didn’t disclose. Probably a similar situation to Jordan. 

There was also a basement, but Johnny didn’t want us to go down there, so we didn’t. 

Me and Jordan gave him a tour of the town, and then the three of us went to the woods, and that big wooden mansion.

Jordan seemed to have the same problem I did - he kept talking to himself and struggling, but eventually he gave up. Johnny was quiet, just staring at the house. He was probably thinking really hard about something. 

Eventually, when me and Jordan had given up, Johnny grabbed both of our wrists and marched right up onto the porch, and knocked on the door. 

The porch didn’t creak as much as I thought it would.

There was nothing.

After a few minutes Johnny turned around and walked off, with me and Jordan close behind. Jordan was fireballing questions at Johnny, all Johnny said was “I’m used to these sorts of things.” 

He never told us anything else about it. 

\---

Me and Jordan and Johnny became best friends pretty quickly. It’s not surprising, we were all trapped in a strange place with only the other two to talk to. We talked about home, our past, our future, our families. All that good stuff.

Johnny was a paranormal investigator, which probably might explain why he was immune to the forest mansion’s effects. He worked under another guy (whose name I can’t remember, im not sure if he even told us) who had some sort of strange condition. He thought it was some sort of possession situation, as he was too violent to be Multiple Personality Disorder. (Back then, it was known as that. Dissociative Identity Disorder is a much newer term). They didn’t make a ton of money, but it was work Johnny and his friend enjoyed, so that was enough for them. 

Jordan was a YouTuber - he made videos online, and made money from ads on them. He had a joint channel with his siblings, but I can’t remember the name of that either. Which is why he still lived with them. 

I told them that I was still a highschool student, living with my Aunt in New York. I had an internship that was really good, and I explained to them that it was actually a Cover Up. We told many secrets to each other, because we didn’t know if we would ever leave, and because we trusted each other. 

We promised each other that if we ever got out of this place, we would go back and find the others. We would never forget about each other. 

We promised.

And I never forgot. 

\---

Jordan was very interested in the tree. He spent hours at a time trying to pick the lock, or chop down the door, or break it down. Every time he would hit it with an Axe, the axe would shatter upon impact. Picking the lock never worked either. We couldn’t get in. 

He would walk around the tree, climb up and down it, investigating nooks and crannies. I’m sure he could navigate that thing blindfolded. He did this every day, looking for anything that changed, looking to see if he could get inside. He was obsessed with getting inside, though I don’t really know why. 

One day, I was out swimming in the lake (I was slowly teaching myself how to swim, as I only knew how to keep myself afloat for short amounts of time), and Johnny was reading a book with his feet in the water. Jordan was at the door, trying to get in the tree again. 

When it came dinnertime, I got out and dried off, and me and Johnny went to Jordan's house for Dinner (Johnny would cook there, as Jordan had a better kitchen). 

Jordan didn’t show up.

We searched the entire city, the lake, the buildings, even the forest (well, Johnny went out in the forest, it was too dark for me), but nothing. 

He didn’t show up ever again.

I assumed he found some way inside the tree, and met some sort of fate. But I never had any indication of what happened.

After a week, his house disappeared, fence and mailbox, all of it. 

And after another week, Johnny and his home disappeared.

And I was once again, all alone. 

But this wasn’t like before - this time I had had a grasp of friendship, I had people with me, at my side, I knew they could be here. I shared days, months, ages with them, never leaving their sides, always Peter and Jordan and Johnny. 

We had promised.

They had promised.

I never forgot that promise. 

\---


	2. My old roomate who was never there - BEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> um, 1m b3n. 1m fr0m cr33pypasta, 1 gu3ss. 1 want3d t0 g3t s0m3th1ng d0wn and shar3 1t. l3ts h0p3 h3 d03sn't f1nd th1s l0l

Meeting him for the first time since I got here was incredible.

I was pretty lonely, as Tim is not good company for someone such as myself. I needed someone chaotic, but familiar and understanding. Tim was just grumpy and stern. 

He seemed fun, and just as excited to see me. 

We hit it off quickly.

We connected quickly, as we remembered a lot of similar things. It was like we had both come from the same place.

Of course, things were a bit different for him. I knew that. He knew that. But it was still nice to have someone similar. 

We joked about being boyfriends. We drew stuff, though he was much more talented than me. 

We were friends. 

I was so glad to have met him. He makes me feel so much better about being here. He’s nice and sweet and fun and supportive.

I never really talked to him back home, though I now wish I did. 

Maybe, if I get back, I will.

But it won’t be the same. 

I almost don’t want to go back, because he’s so much… better than anything I had back there. 

But we’re just friends.

And he’s having to deal with losing his real boyfriend, from back at his source. I want to help him.

I want to replace the boyfriend.

But we’re just friends. It’s just a joke. 

I don’t love; I’m too cold-hearted. I killed people, I tortured and threatened people for years. 

And here I am, moping over someone I know, but don’t. 

Do I love him?

I know I shouldn’t, I couldn’t. I’m just a sliver of something, of someone. I’m not real. We’re not real. 

But I love him anyways.

I would do anything to be friends with him. To keep in contact and to be there for him.

I want to be his shoulder to cry on, his bringer of chaos, the fuel to his fire. 

I’m drowning again. But this time, it’s not my father, nor is it my nightmares.

It’s emotions.

I hate it.

I want to go back to being a restless spirit, who only has a form thanks to my Boss. I want to go around and make other people suffer for no reason. I want to drive them beyond the point of insanity.

But they tell me I shouldn’t.

And for some reason, I don’t want to as much as I should.

I’m going soft.

The Boss will be pissed.

But he’s gentler than I remember. He’s scared and nervous. 

I can’t scare him. 

He might leave me.

Now, I want to be alive again. I want to be human. I want to bleed like humans do. I want to see red.

I want to breathe and walk and sleep, like a living person. 

The water mocks me from where I sit. 

I can feel it in me, choking me, filling my lungs.

Now I’m scared.

I’m soft.

I’m soft.

He wants to start a Tim Cult. 

I’m weak.

I want to bleed.

I want to bleed.

I want to bleed.

I want to bleed i want to bleed i want to bleed i want to bleed i want to bleed i want to bleed i want to bleed 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 1 want t0 bl33d 

1 must bl33d


	3. Summer 2017 - Colin and Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE TW!  
> This contains vague talk of out-of-body experiences and su/c/de! Be careful!!

A bottle of soda and a bag of chocolates are clutched in my small hands. I grin as we race across the street, to the empty bank parking lot so we can find somewhere to share our spoils. We’re laughing. We’re young and free and happy. 

I know that when we go home after this, Dad will be very mad at me. I’m not sure why yet, but he always seems to be mad at me. I try to make him happy, but I never can get it right. 

We sit down and share the plastic cups we got from home, pouring out some soda for everyone. I don’t like soda, but I drink it anyways. I don’t care. I’m happy.

The rough porch we sit on hurts my legs, but I don’t care. We eat snickers and milky ways and kit kats. We laugh and talk. The sun beats down on us and a soft breeze blows by. We are young and free.

I stare at the mirror, looking into those blue eyes that should be mine but sometimes feel wrong. My arms are trembling as I clutch the bottle. Dad is so mad at me. I am so tired of existing, of living, of doing everything wrong. I can never do things right. I’m crying. 

I’m so tired.

I unscrew the cap and tilt back my head. 

I won’t have to wake up this morning.

Everyone is laughing and talking, chatting as the sun sets. People from all over the world gather in the small backyard patio, enjoying exotic food many people made. It’s very loud.

I smile and laugh with them, but I can’t bring myself to relax. I am faking it.

Tomorrow, I would be dead.

A part of me is scared.

I sit in the bedroom, the soft blue walls and blankets calming myself. I’m playing Plague.Inc, though it’s past my bedtime. 

My brain feels scrambled. 

Swagpi is begging me to stop. To get help. She’s scared.

I’m ready for this.

Suddenly, I am forced out of my body. I am watching from the corner, my back to the smooth walls. In the darkness I can see my body shift. It is stiffer now, though it feels like a child learning to walk for the first time. The stand and stumble to the closet, and I see my body grab my secret box. My hair is messy, the green shirt that I use for sleep dances with my body. 

My body returns the box to my bed and sits on top, opening it and carefully examining it’s contents. 

Dad walks in. He’s putting Tater to sleep.

“What are you doing that you shouldn’t be?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I was so mad at myself and so tired and I swallowed the pills.”

He’s angry at me again.

I feel a soft, familiar hand grip my shoulder. I look up and see Grandma Sara. I missed her. She holds out her arms and I fall into her grip, clinging to her like my life depends on it. Because it does. 

Dad and my body leave the room, but me and grandma Sara stay in my room. 

I didn’t wake up. 

\---

I open my eyes in my room. The pretty blue walls and my big comfy bed. I’m a lot younger than I remember.

Carefully I crawl out of bed and leave my room. 

My house is empty.

I leave the house and find myself in a strange place. There’s lots of big trees and a couple other houses. 

Something soft brushes against my leg, and I look down to see Skipper.

Skipper.

Isn’t she dead?

I don’t care. I crouch down beside her and pet her, a little smile on my face.

Am I in heaven? 

I look up and see a boy walking towards me. He is smiling and bouncing. He seems good. 

“Hi! Welcome!”

Welcome?

“Now, this is going to be a bit confusing, but hi! I’m Peter.” He introduces, sitting down in front of me. Skipper sniffs his leg before returning to my side.

“Are we in Heaven?” I ask, confused. 

He frowns for a moment. “No, we’re still alive. I think.” 

“Then where are we? Why is Skipper here? Me and her are supposed to be dead.”

Peter’s frown deepens. 

“No… I… What’s your name?”

“Sam.”

His mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. He seems to realize something.

“Oh boy, um… There’s someone I think you should meet.”

\---

It’s all wrong.


	4. Home - Jordan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little tour or the headspace, and a bit of Jordan's difficulty with memory.

This world, wherever it was, was beautiful. 

A dense forest, that no matter the time of day it always felt like night underneath, sprawled across most of the land. Patches of it were replaced with unique houses, each one special to the one who lived in it. Modern, medieval, rustic. Any kind of home could be found there. A trailer with a basement full of strange technology, or a treehouse covered in futuristic devices, or a spaceship landed on a concrete platform. 

Hovering above a portion of the forest was a giant cloud, one that housed a handful of individuals. They, too, had unique homes, with bits of puffy white cloud hovering here and there. Of course, it was impossible to live on a cloud. They’re made of water.

But here, anything was possible. 

Near the edge of the forest was a deep blue lake, surrounded by houses which always kept their distance from one another. There was also a small graveyard, housing two or three graves. One of them always looked fresh. Sometimes the girl would manage to get out and talk to people, before the angel forced her back into her coffin. 

There were two giant mansions in this land. One was old, wooden, and creaky, likely to scare off any visitors. Inside, only three people lived. However, they expected more. It had happened before, it could happen again, they believed. The second was more modern, bright, and lively. Inside there were eight people, a family of sorts. Not by blood, but of something more. 

In the center of the land was a huge tree. Old, gnarled branches moved up in beautiful movements, coated with leaves. There was a little hammock built near the top, along with many nests and homes for a number of creatures. At the base of it was an old wooden door, with no windows. Only a strange, circular shape and doorknob. Sometimes the door would lock automatically, or travel elsewhere to pick someone up. It was a strange thing, that door. 

Inside the tree was a room that seemed much bigger on the inside. A number of shelves and ledges moved to the ceiling, while the ground floor contained a couch, table, and handmade rug. A large desk was pushed against the wall, a number of chairs facing it. On it there was a large monitor, the size of a tv screen. There was no keyboard, though. 

Jordan lived in the little trailer. It was a little piece of their home, long forgotten. 

They sat on the roof of the thin structure, staring off at the sunset with a distant look in their eyes. They remembered some. But not enough. It frustrated them to no end, not knowing their own past. They only just learned their full name. 

Their knees were pressed to their chest, arms wrapped around their legs as their chin rested on their knees. A frown tugged at their gentle, childlike features. 

Why was it so difficult to remember? 

Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the trees, they moved. They released their legs and stretched, their wings flaring up and shaking a little bit to release the sleep that pulled at them. 

Jordan stood, stretching again, before walking to the edge of the roof and jumping off. They used their wings to slow their fall, allowing them to land neatly on their legs and turn back to their home.

A trailer may seem an odd home to many. People may live there, yes, but it wasn’t exactly ideal.

It was more out of familiarity, Jordan supposed.

They climbed the four steps to the little deck, going inside their little home for the night. 

The first room was a small living space, with a couch against a wall, facing a television beside the door. A kitchen was neatly fitted into the corner, with a little bar and a couple chairs. It was meant to seat two people, but it only sat one. There was a little hallway between the television and the couch. Jordan moved down it, letting out a sad sigh. The first room was a little bathroom, with a shower, sink, and toilet. The essentials. Beside it was a fairly sized bedroom, housing a queen bed, a desk, and a dresser. It was cozy, not a lot of room to move around. But to Jordan, it was the perfect size. Past it was a tiny room, housing only a staircase to the basement. And beyond that, a larger room took up the end of the trailer. This one was unoccupied, still holding the bed, shelves, desk, closet.

But no one lived there. 

Clothes were neatly folded and hung in the closet. The bed was always made and clean, the rug always perfectly laid out at the foot. The lamps on the nightstands were always at the same angle, the desk always laid out perfectly. 

For if he ever came back.

Jordan paused and looked in the room, a sad smile on their face as they scanned the room. Looking for any imperfections. They wouldn’t want to let him down, would they? 

They turned back to their own, much smaller and messier, bedroom. They sat on the bed tiredly and stared at the picture hanging above it. 

Their past self, and him. Smiling. Sitting on the front of the van, what was it called? Sally? They couldn’t quite remember. He was quite attached to that old thing, no matter how many times it broke down or got pulled over. 

He would never get rid of that van. 

Jordan sighed and laid down on the bed.

They really needed to stop crying over him.

\---

Jordan curled in the hammock in the giant tree, a small phone clutched in their hands. Their wings were awkwardly draping across the edge. It was annoying, and honestly really extra, to have three different pairs of wings. But what could they do, really? 

Someone was coming out of the door. Jordan watched them through the branches, looking up from their phone curiously. Cedar, they recognized. He was a dark skinned male, small for his age. Bright green eyes, blending with the colourful freckles decorating his face, and a number of flowers resting in his black dreadlocks, pulled into a ponytail. A little raccoon was napping happily in his arm, its black and white tail dangling back and forth. 

Cedar paused and looked back at Jordan, their bright blue eyes meeting his. There was a moment where he grinned and nodded at them. They returned with a sad smile and a little wave. 

Cedar knew better than to intrude when Jordan was upset. So he nodded, pulled a flower from his hair and tossed it at them, and left. 

They caught the flower and stared at it for a long while, a frown decorating their pale features. 

They put the flower in their hair, which was loose from its ponytail and laying across their shoulders in bright red waves. 

They took in a shaky breath, let it out, and returned to their phone. 

At one point, a bark caught their attention. They looked up and saw a black, fluffy dog standing at the base of the tree, looking up at them expectantly. A soft chuckle fell out of their full lips. They crawled out of the hammock and glided down to the dog, landing beside it and crouching down.

It took a moment to sniff them, licking at their hand before it waited patiently for Jordan to pick it up. And they did, gently gathering the dog in their arms before taking flight again and returning to the hammock.

The dog, Skipper, curled up against their stomach, huffing as she glanced up at Jordan, as if complaining because Jordan didn’t come to her first. Jordan gave an apologetic smile. 

Skipper closed her eyes and soon fell asleep. 

Jordan followed her lead, closing their eyes and allowing sleep to take over. 

\---

A part of Jordan knew that he would never be coming home. Firstly, they had changed. A lot. Shoulder-length black hair was now bright red, reaching their mid-back. Blue eyes stayed the same, though the familiar accent had, for the most part, faded into an american one. The tall, well-built masculine figure had shortened, and become much rounder and more feminine. The typical dress shirt, hoodie, and camo pants were now jeans and an unbuttoned shirt. 

They were much different. 

And he was very far away. If he wasn’t already here, based off the fact that they no longer were familiar with him, he wouldn’t make it. 

He would never come home.

Jordan curled closer to Skipper and struggled to muffle their sobs. 

Grief crashed at them, moving through their body like an ocean in a storm. It would never get easier, the realization. 

Perhaps they loved him.

Perhaps they never should have remembered. 

\---

The streetlights moved across Toast’s face in a rhythm, the stars invisible in the nearly black night sky. He focused on the road, Ghost’s music quietly playing in the background of their consciousness. 

Ghost sat in the passenger seat, curled up on himself, with his hood pulled up to hide his face. Gentle snores leaked from his mouth as he slept. 

Toast glanced over, a little smile tugging at his face. 

Toast turned off the highway onto an exit, the van was almost out of gas and he was quite hungry. 

As he drove through the fast food restaurants and gas stations, a loud shout startled him. 

“MCDONALD’S!” Exclaimed Ghost. Toast nearly swerved off the road, his heart racing in fear. 

It was just Ghost. 

“You startled me, Sir.” Toast said, turing on his turn signal to get to the restaurant that had caught Ghost’s attention. 

“Happy meal.” Ghost replied, tiredly. “Sixpeice. Fries. Toy.” He fell silent again, closing his eyes as he yawned. 

Toast, of course, had already memorized Ghost’s favorite order. 

“Of course, Sir.”


End file.
